


Quicksilver

by Helen8462



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Canon, Episode Addition, Episode: s05e18 Course: Oblivion, F/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 12:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11532348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/pseuds/Helen8462
Summary: A few missing scenes from Course: Oblivion.  Because the dichromate copies had more differences from the real crew than we were shown.





	Quicksilver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiaCooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/gifts).



> Mia’s challenge #3 is the word “Silver”.  
> Sabotages: Must be set during/after an episode (and canon-consistent) OR Must feature a character that isn't J or C.
> 
> Not to be outdone, I did both sabotages (not to mention during and after an episode). And, I used Silver in FOUR ways plus a compound word and it's centered on what I consider a rare-pair (from my challenge #3 to her). Eat it, Mia.
> 
> Also, Course: Oblivion was too tragic for me, so here’s my in-canon attempt to make it a smidge better….ok maybe now it’s worse. Whatever.

_“Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.”_

_–Dorothy Parker_

* * *

She catches the bouquet, and he think that maybe the universe is giving him a sign.

“You may not want to know,” Tuvok says. 

Everyone laughs but she is still confused, her innocence makes him smile.  He picks up his instrument again, the one that he had to scrimp and save his replicator rations for a lifetime ago.  He feels the familiar silver keys under his fingertips and plays a happy tune.  He knows that he will explain the significance of catching the bride’s flowers to her later, when they are wrapped in each other’s arms - while his fingertips are making her sing instead of his clarinet.

* * *

Their relationship had started just over eight months ago, just after Voyager encountered a particularly devious race known as the Kmada. Trapped in a Jefferies tube, gasping for air while the life support system failed all around them, he finally threw caution to the wind.

“Do you have any regrets?” he asked her.  The heat was rising steadily as steam vented off of the warp core just two decks below.  Sweat dripped into his eyes.

“Regret is irrelevant.”

“Dammit Seven, there has to be something you’re sorry about.  Something you did or said that you’d take back.  Something you didn’t do that you wish you had?” he prodded.

She thought a moment then simply said, “I regret I was unable to fully explore what it means to be human.”  With a raise of her eyebrow she added, “I also regret climbing into this Jeffries tube.”

He chuckled and slapped a hand on his leg. “There, see?  Was that so hard?”

“And you, Ensign?  Do you harbor regrets?”

“Oh yes.  I have lots of them.  I regret I’ll never see my family again.  I regret things I’ve said and done to hurt the people I care about….”  Then he looked into her eyes.  “I regret the things I haven’t said.  The things I haven’t done.”

“Curious,” she replied, cocking her head to the side.  “Your blood pressure and heart rate have just increased.”

He sighed and slumped back against the wall of the tube once again.  “It’s getting hotter in here, we’re losing air.”   

“I do not believe the loss of life support is the reason for the sudden change in your vital signs.”  She’s working on a deduction and had to ask, “Is there something that you regret, about me perhaps?”

“You know what?” he said, finding strength in their dire situation.  “There is and it’s not too late.  Maybe I can get rid of one regret.  I don’t want to die in here, not without telling you something.”

She sat attentive as he scooted upright again.

She met his eyes as he opened his mouth, presumably to talk.

She returned his embrace when he leaned in, wound his hands around her neck and drew her to him instead.

Her lips were warm and supple - her body, yielding and pliant despite the cramped space.  For a former drone with no romantic experience, he realized that she reciprocated quite well as he breathed her in and deepened their kiss. 

And now he wonders if the reason was because she was never a former drone to begin with. 

* * *

He enters sickbay, not sure of exactly what to expect when he gets there.  He hopes he’s not too late to comfort his grieving friend.  But oddly enough, Tom is nowhere to be found. 

Approaching the canister which rests on the counter, he bows his head.  It reminds him of mercury as it shimmers against the artificial lights of the bay.  He sees a distorted reflection of himself across the silver.

But it’s not a mirror, or a jar of elemental liquid.  It’s his friend, what’s left of her.  It’s another man’s wife. 

The contents of the beaker is an officer.  An engineer.  A warrior.

Or, at least, she was a copy of all of those things.

* * *

“Computer, halt turbolift,” Tom says.  He regards his friend who stands rigid and silent against the back wall of the small space.

“You know, a thought occurred to me, Harry.  You took the time to offer your condolences about B’Elanna earlier and I was pretty rude to you."

He nods his head, and say’s “It’s ok, I understand,” but he’s unsure of whether he should believe the almost mock-sincerity in his friend’s voice.  He’s unsure of most everything today.

“What I should have done is offer you some advice.”

“Really?” he asks, skeptically.

“Well, you saw the puddle that was once my wife, right?”

His jaw clenches as a response.

“At least my glob of goo knew how I really felt about her before she reverted to our true, liquid state.”

“Computer, resume lift,” he says through gritted teeth.

“That’s going to be you too, Harry,” Tom says, anger leaching into his voice again.  “And me.  And _Seven_.  Have you told the quicksilver-Borg how you feel?” the Lieutenant continues with a sideways glare.

He stills his breath, bites his tongue so hard that it begins to throb.

“Better tell her Harry.”   The turbolift door slides open with a hiss as Tom steps away from him.  “They can’t hear much when they’re in a jar.

And then he’s alone, back against the wall with his head in his hands.

* * *

He remembers the planet like it was yesterday.  He recalls the green grass and blue sky.  How much it looked like Earth, he had thought.  But now he realizes, his eyes have never seen Earth.  His legs have never wandered aimlessly in fields of wildflowers, his toes have never sunk into hot sand at the ocean’s shore.  And now he’s sure he will never experience those things at all.

The line between real and duplicate is beginning to blur.  He’s trying to stay calm, trying to focus on his training, on the loyalties to duty and responsibility which he has felt so strongly through his veins since coming into existence.  But his thoughts are almost constantly wandering in another direction.  His feet follow his heart and he finds himself at the door to her quarters.

* * *

“As I told Lieutenant Torres yesterday, I fail to see the added value of making our relationship monogamous.”

“You told that to B’Elanna?  You mean, right before she died - in the same horrible way that we’re _all_ going to die soon? 

“I fail to see the relevance of the circumstances surrounding Lieutenant Torres’ death and my opinion on exclusive pair bonding.”

“You fail to see the relevance?  Seven, everything we’ve been living for the past….however many years we can remember have been a lie.  The only thing that’s real have been the last ten months.  Surely that must have some relevance to you.  There has to be something from it that seeps into our relationship.” 

“I have… not given that fact much thought.”

“Well, I’m asking you to think about it now.  I keep looking back at what I’ve done in the last ten months, the things that were _me_ and not that other guy I was copied to be like,” he says, taking her hand in his own.  “The only thing I can really say that _I’ve_ done that has any meaning is to fall in love with you.”

She looks at him and for a moment she drops the façade that has been becoming harder and harder to keep up in the last days.  “I have similar feelings for you,” she admits.

“I know you do,” he says with a shy smile. “The relationship we’ve built is real.  It wasn’t from planted memories.  _We_ discovered it trapped in that Jefferies tube.  _We_ made it grow over dinners and on dates in the holodeck.   _We_ ignited it, lying in that field looking at the stars on Della V.

“I may not be sure of much anymore, but I’m sure of how I feel about you.  I know that out of everyone else, you’re the one I’m going to miss the most.  And I guess, I just wanted to be sure you knew that.”

“I have also enjoyed your companionship.  Despite being inhuman yourself, you have taught me more about humanity than anyone else.  And for that, I am grateful.”

He lifts her hand to his cheek, feels the coolness of the silvered veins that play down her fingers then closes his eyes and lets go of a sigh.

“I have something for you,” he says softly.  “Do you remember walking with me through the shops, that night after we….” he trails off, blushing slightly.

“Yes.  It was three months, seven days ago.  We stumbled on a village at the outskirts of the field.”

He nods and reaches into his pocket.  “I bought something for you while we were there.  I intended to give it to you on the anniversary of our first date.  But it doesn’t look like we’re going to get to that point now.” 

From his pocket, he pulls a small black box and hands it to her.

“Harry,” she questions, eyebrow raised.  “Have I not made my stance on marriage clear?”

“Just open it,” he says, thrusting it into her lap.

She eyes him, and then the box before finally doing as requested.

Inside, she finds a necklace.  She smooths her fingers over the finely linked, silver chain and down to a delicate, teardrop pendant at the bottom.

“It is beautiful,” she says.  “I…. appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“May I?” he asks, taking the necklace from the velvet lining.  She leans forward as he brings it around her neck, loosening her hair in the same movement.  Soft, blonde strands fall down around his hands and arms and he runs his fingers through them once he has secured the clasp. 

Then, together, they relish in greatest joy of their short lives.

* * *

“Hull breaches on decks nine, ten and eleven,” comes the report from Engineering.  He can discern the panic in her voice, even if no one else can.  Not that there is anyone left to notice anyway. 

He closes his eyes for a split second, takes a breath and finally knows in his heart that this battle will not be won.  For all of the optimism seeded in his very nature, he cannot believe that he will live past the next few minutes.

“Seven?  Seven!”  Bile churns in his stomach as his comm is met with silence.

“Computer.  How long until we’re in hailing range of that ship?”

_‘Five minutes and thirty four seconds.’_

“Seven?” he asks again.  A few more moments pass with all the speed of an eternity.

“I am here, Harry,” he hears her say softly.  “I have…. I am destabilizing.”

“I love you,” he chokes.  The ship shudders and waves around him. 

“I know,” he hears.

And then there is nothing.

* * *

Captain Kathryn Janeway stands before her chair on the bridge of Voyager.  Her brow is furrowed, her heart sinks just a bit and then she says, “Make a note in the ship's record. We received a distress call at oh-nine hundred hours. Arrived at the vessel's last known coordinates at twenty-one twenty.”  She sinks into her seat and finishes the entry.  “The ship was destroyed. Cause unknown. No survivors.”

Ensign Paris is just about to press the familiar keys on his console to turn them about and set trail for the Alpha Quadrant when a voice comes from behind.

“Wait!”

All eyes turn to the ensign at Ops.  “There’s something out there.  Other objects and materials mixed with the dichromates.” 

“What kind of objects, Harry?”

“Some organic, they look plant-based.  There are also other alloys.  Bronze, a few precious metals, some pieces of wood maybe?”

“Beam a few samples to the cargo bay.  Seven's there now, have Ensign Wildman join you as well.  Maybe we can identify something about what species or type of ship this was, or if there was a weapon involved it its destruction.” 

* * *

Harry Kim enters the Cargo bay with a tricorder and very few expectations.  From what he could tell from the transporter sensors, they will likely be left with more questions than answers regarding this disaster they have encountered.  But still, he is hopeful that some information can be salvaged.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks Samantha Wildman.  She stands from the place where she had been kneeling on the floor amidst roughly sorted materials and shakes her head.  

“Some plant remnants, a few chunks of different kinds of ore,” the ensign says, palming a piece of badly mangled metal.  “There are traces of barley-based alcohol on the surface of this.  I’m going to run a scan on it in the lab.  We also found this.”  Then she hands him rectangular piece of wood, slightly larger than a padd.    

“It looks like someone was making a carving but never had a chance to finish.”

“It reminds me of something Commander Chakotay has in his office, don’t you think?” she asks, and Harry has to agree.

“There is virtually no value in any of these materials," Seven announces, closing her tricorder.  "And no relevant information as to what happened to the vessel that contained them."

“Oh, there was one other thing,” Samantha says.  She bends down and digs through a small pile of rubble then comes up with the chain of a necklace.  At the bottom, falls a simple teardrop pendant.  He examines its pristine surface as the ensign takes her leave.  

“This is beautiful,” he says, showing it to Seven.  A chirp from the comm system interrupts her response.

_‘Janeway to Ensign Kim’_

“Kim here.”

_‘Report, Ensign.  Did you find anything of interest in the wreckage?’_

“Unfortunately no, ma’am.  Just pieces of rotted vegetation and a few personal effects.  What would you like us to do with it?”

_‘Catalogue anything of note and then dispose of the rest.  Janeway out.’_

Harry regards the necklace still hanging loosely between his fingers.  “I think you should keep this, Seven,” he says.

She eyes him with curiosity.  “Why?”

“I’ve never seen you wear jewelry, and I think it would look nice on you.  It probably meant a lot to someone, it would be a shame to throw it away.”

He puts it in her hand, gives her a shy smile and then leaves her to her thoughts.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [In Another Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16329371) by [MiaCooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/pseuds/MiaCooper)




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